


i'm so into you (i can barely breathe)

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Developing Relationship, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 21:38:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7730662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morisuke loves being fucked by Tetsurou, but he doesn’t love him enough to stay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm so into you (i can barely breathe)

**Author's Note:**

> i’ve been feeling blue & i need happiness so... here u go  
> the titles from that ariana grande song lmao it has little to do with the plot
> 
> also special thanks @ brit for reading this through

“I have drunken deep of joy,

and I will taste no other wine tonight.”

\-- percy bysshe shelley

 

They were introduced at a party; some friend of a friend of Koutarou had hosted it, and that seemed like a good enough reason for him to drag Tetsurou out with him after trying desperately to explain that wearing  _ joggers is not cool, man! no one likes them! _

The joggers stayed; black and paired with an accidentally over-sized-- Tetsurou was too lanky, really-- white t-shirt. It was a  _ look,  _ Tetsurou insisted, and besides, it did not seem that too many people were judging his fashion choices. It was packed, and it smelt of weed-- the good shit, nonetheless-- and cigarette smoke and alcohol, and after one shot of straight vodka and another of fireball, Tetsurou was a little unstable on his feet and fairly sure he’d been having the best time of his goddamn life. Koutarou had disappeared, but that was fine; Tetsurou’s eyes had trailed to some figure standing outside alone on the porch smoking a cigarette. They seemed cool, and inertly complicated; that brooding, misunderstood artistic type. Tetsurou was into that. 

“Hey,” he’d told them. The night air was cold, and it was darker than Tetsurou’d imagined. The only source of light was from the stranger’s cigarette. 

“Hi,” the man-- boy, more like; he couldn’t have been older than Tetsurou-- said. His voice was lower than expected. Tetsurou’s breath caught in his throat. The glowing, incessant light grew as the boy took a drag from the cigarette; he placed it between his lips and inhaled deeply. His features were gentle, and he was pretty, sure, but  _ God _ , something about his eyes made Tetsurou’s skin crawl. They were reflective, and large, and just really,  _ really  _ nice to look at. The guy was beautiful, truth be told; the kind of beauty Tetsurou didn’t quite understand yet. 

The stranger exhaled. 

“Morisuke,” he spoke into the haze of smoke; it stung Tetsurou’s wide eyes, “That’s my name.”

“Oh,” Tetsurou spoke dumbly.

“Yeah, I figured you should know it, seeing as you’ve been staring at me for the past--” he pulled out his phone, “Three minutes.”

“Oh,” Tetsurou repeated, “Shit.”

Morisuke shrugged.

“Whatever,” he mumbled. He took another drag of his cigarette, and briefly, Tetsurou wondered whether he’d taste like a goddamn ashtray, seeing as he smoked like a Victorian chimney. Tetsurou wanted to find out. 

Things progressed after that; he’d had another desperado, and made Morisuke a whiskey-cola, and after that, Morisuke fell into his lap on that awfully stained brown sofa and ran his fingers through Tetsurou’s  _ god-awful sexy bedhair, the fuck’s your problem? _

Tetsurou offered to take him home after Morisuke’d said that; it seemed right. After that whiskey-cola and another cigarette, Morisuke seemed starved for his touch. He’d grasped Tetsurou’s hair and as Tetsurou leaned into it, Morisuke fell into his lap and trailed his fingers over Tetsurou’s temple and jaw with this curious little half-smile, and  _ God _ , it was gorgeous. 

“I’d like to take you home,” Tetsurou told him, “Back to my dorm, I mean.”

Morisuke scratched at the nape of Tetsurou’s neck.

“Okay,” he spoke into the gap between Tetsurou’s lips. 

 

Things progressed after that. 

Morisuke had pushed him against the door the moment Tetsurou had opened it and led him inside with a small, “Sorry, it’s kinda messy--” and  _ God _ , kissing Morisuke was like nothing Tetsurou had ever felt before. He’d kissed some people-- at truth-or-dares, at other parties-- but he’s never had a  _ real  _ boyfriend, or anything like that-- only some one-night-stands; he was only a first year, after all-- and so, the sheer passion and force Morisuke kissed with was  _ incredible _ ; he kissed Tetsurou like he was  _ everything  _ to him. 

“God,” exhaled Tetsurou when they parted briefly; for a gasp of air, “Jesus,  _ fuck _ \--”

And then they were kissing again; really, it was too easy. Tetsurou had to lean down quite a bit, which seemed to piss Morisuke off-- or turn him on, maybe-- to no end, and so-- with little forewarning-- Morisuke jumped up and wrapped his legs around Tetsurou’s waist. Tetsurou staggered backwards, only a little, and made a small sound at the back of his throat before gripping the bottom of Morisuke’s thighs and holding him closer as he tilted his head and cupped the back of Tetsurou’s head and  _ oh,  _ **_this_ ** _ was kissing _ .

Morisuke moaned and made all sorts of sounds as Tetsurou licked and bit all over his soft lips. Morisuke pushed up towards him-- rolled his hips and did all sorts of fun tricks-- and then, Tetsurou couldn’t take it anymore. He flung Morisuke onto the bed, and Morisuke pulled Tetsurou down with him. He bounced on the mattress once or twice before Tetsurou tore off his shirt in a hurried motion-- Morisuke took off his own t-shirt, too-- and crawled over him, kissing him once more, because it simply felt like  _ not  _ kissing Morisuke was a crime. Morisuke cupped Tetsurou’s jaw and rolled his hips to meet Tetsurou’s as Tetsurou licked at the roof of his mouth and traced his teeth. Morisuke  _ did  _ taste bitter-- it was a mix of cigarettes and alcohol-- but there was something else there too; something Tetsurou was too drunk on cherry Schnapps and lust to figure out. 

“Shit,” groaned Morisuke. Tetsurou pulled down Morisuke’s jeans and underwear. “Oh my God, I’m going to regret this tomorrow--”

“Me too,” whined Tetsurou as Morisuke sucked a mark into his throat and dug his nails into his shoulders, “Oh,  _ fuck _ \--”

Morisuke rolled his hips once more, and then, skilled and skinny fingers cupped Tetsurou through his joggers, and it was then that he was so,  _ so  _ thankful he’d worn those ridiculously thin pair of trousers. He whimpered a little, and with another  _ holy shit, fuck--  _ he tore them off and kissed Morisuke once more as Morisuke wrapped his hand around his aching-- embarrassingly enough-- cock and began to stroke. Tetsurou knocked his forehead against Morisuke’s shoulder and arched towards the searing touch. 

“Jesus,” he groaned, “Oh, sweet Jesus, Mary and Joseph--”

“You religious?” Morisuke grinned and thumbed Tetsurou’s slit. It felt good; Tetsurou was slick with precome. 

“Theology student,” Tetsurou admitted in a choked voice. Morisuke threw his head back and laughed; chest vibrating against Tetsurou’s.

“Shit, seriously?” he snorted as Tetsurou dug around his nightstand to hide his bright red cheeks, and to find a bottle of lube and some condoms.

“Yeah,” mumbled Tetsurou, “Still, doesn’t mean I’m all religious and shit--”

“Yeah, yeah,” replied Morisuke. He spread his legs languidly. “Whatever,” he sighed, “Shut up and finger me open.”

All the breath Tetsurou had held in his lungs left in that moment. 

“Holy shit,” he sighed, “You’re so hot.”

Morisuke laughed once more.

“Thanks,” he said, “I think you’re hot, too.”

Tetsurou blushed at that-- again-- but there wasn’t enough time for him to hide and get all shy; Morisuke was here--  _ right here _ \-- and open and bare and pliant and willing, and all for Tetsurou. It was too good an opportunity to miss, and so Tetsurou coated his fingers with far too much lube than necessary, probably, but it seemed a good rule of thumb that there was no such thing as too much lube. Hiding his uncertainty, Tetsurou leaned forward and kissing Morisuke. Morisuke seemed surprised; he gasped and made this tiny sound as Tetsurou pressed his tongue against his. 

His sounds became louder as Tetsurou pushed a finger into him, then two; Morisuke pushed them in further. His back arched, and he knocked his head back.

“Oh,  _ fuck--  _ more,” whined Morisuke, “C’mon,  _ more _ .”

Tetsurou complied and curled his fingers and began to thrust them, and  _ God _ ; Morisuke moaned so loud Tetsurou began to feel bad for his neighbours. As Morisuke shook and trembled and moved back into Tetsurou’s touch, Tetsurou could feel himself leaking, and he couldn’t help touching himself at the sight; Morisuke was gorgeous. 

“Shit,” he hissed as Morisuke gave a choked cry, “Oh,  _ shit _ \--”

Morisuke’s hand shot out, and his fingers rested on Tetsurou’s.

“Don’t you  _ dare  _ come, Kuroo Tetsurou.”

Tetsurou swallowed thickly.

“Okay,” he said weakly. He stopped moving altogether. Morisuke sighed, and furrowed his eyebrows. 

“Are you-- for fuck’s sake. Take out your fingers,” he commanded desperately.

Tetsurou complied.

“Now, put on a-- do I  _ really  _ need to walk you through this?” Morisuke asked, “You’re not a virgin, are you?”

“No!” Tetsurou replied. He tore open the wrapper, and put the condom on. It was entirely embarrassing. 

Morisuke barked a laugh.

“I dunno, man,” he said, “Theology students; aren’t you supposed to be virtuous?”

“That’s  _ priests _ , you piece of shit.”

“Whatever,” Morisuke sighed, “How d’you want me?”

Tetsurou’s chest ached; he glanced down at Morisuke, and suddenly, every single thought in his mind halted. If Morisuke was hot and sort of pretty before, he was downright beautiful and ethereal now.

“I don’t care,” Tetsurou said honestly.

“From behind, then,” Morisuke told him, and he rolled over to lie on his chest and rest on his knees. The sight was impossibly attractive. Suddenly, it felt as though the temperature had risen ten degrees in mere seconds, Tetsurou thought. 

“Okay,” he said weakly. 

Tentatively, Tetsurou pressed the head of his cock against Morisuke, and he waited; for something,  _ anything  _ that would count as consent. 

“For Christ’s sake, just put it in,” complained Morisuke, raising his ass and rocking back towards Tetsurou, “You sure you’re not a virgin?”

Tetsurou closed his eyes and inhaled shakily through flared nostrils. 

“I’ll  _ show  _ you virgin,” he mumbled, and then, he slid inside; probably a little too quickly and too vigorously, though if Morisuke noticed, he didn’t seem to care. His knees buckled, and he muffled a groan into Tetsurou’s pillow. 

“Oh, shit,” he breathed as Tetsurou began to move, “Holy  _ shit _ \--”

“Virgin, huh?”

Morisuke turned his head to glance at Tetsurou. 

“C’mon,” he challenged in a raspy breath, “That all you got?”

“ _ Oh _ , buddy,” drawled Tetsurou.

The lines began to blur after that; Tetsurou thrust harder, and then they were  _ fucking _ . Morisuke gasped and cried out, shook and was torn apart at the seams, and Tetsurou? Tetsurou drank up Morisuke’s drawn-out loud moans and angry, sobbing pathetic curses as Tetsurou held back-- teased him-- and licked up and down the vertebrae of Morisuke’s arched spine. He marvelled at just how far he could push him until he  _ lost it  _ and  _ begged  _ Tetsurou; with sweet pleas in a broken voice and a wet mouth. Tetsurou was a generous sort of guy. He complied, and left marks all over Morisuke’s body as he trembled all over and came with a shout all over Tetsurou’s bed sheets. Tetsurou was no better; grasping Morisuke’s hips, he titled his head back and thrust into him one last time before coming,  _ hard _ . 

“Not bad for a virgin,” gasped Morisuke as Tetsurou buckled over. Tetsurou groaned into the warm and soft skin of Morisuke’s lower back.  

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” panted Tetsurou. He pulled out of Morisuke, and tied the condom off.  “Oh,  _ Jesus _ ; you’re killing me, man.”

Morisuke rolled onto his back. Hand resting on his chest, he began to laugh; slowly, and then all at once. At the sight, Tetsurou became just a little bit more breathless. 

 

The next morning, Tetsurou didn’t wake up alone.

“Don’t get used to it,” Morisuke told him, face dug into his pillow, “I’m too hungover to move.”

“Okay,” spoke Tetsurou. He didn’t mind. Morisuke was a nice sight to wake up to in the morning; his cheeks were red, and there were love-bites all over his body. Tetsurou was sure he looked no better. 

“Gimme a cigarette, why don’t you?” Morisuke whined. Tetsurou groaned. 

“Why don’t you do it yourself?”

Morisuke raised his head and grinned. 

“‘Cause I let you fuck me, Kuroo Tetsurou,” he quipped, “Play nice, and I might let you do it again.”

Never in his life had Tetsurou sprung out of his bed faster. 

 

Morisuke left Tetsurou a little after three in the afternoon; with stained sheets and a horrid hangover and a phone number in his contacts, nestled between  _ Mom  _ and  _ Miko _ . 

Tetsurou had considered texting him the moment he’d left, truth be told, but it seemed utterly embarrassing. Morisuke looked so damn  _ cool _ , back then; half-naked and smoking in his dorm-- even though they weren’t supposed to-- and grinning at him lopsidedly. 

“Fuck,” Tetsurou sighed. His thumb hovered over the  _ send  _ button;  _ hey, you free tonight?  _ he’d typed out in lecture, but it seemed pointless, and a little desperate, but then again, Tetsurou  _ was  _ desperate. He couldn’t get Morisuke’s moans out of his head; a broken record he never wanted to fix. 

He ended up not sending anything. 

 

The next time he saw him was at a game; field hockey. Koutarou was on the team, and so was Hajime, and it turned out, Morisuke tutored-- and was reluctantly friends with-- Hajime’s  _ totally  _ not-boyfriend Tooru. Tooru was sort of annoying. He was at the edge of his seat-- literally-- the entire match, and kept hollering things. 

Tetsurou sat a couple of seats away from them; in the first row, just like them, but on the other side of the field. As Hajime scored a goal-- or something like that, Tetsurou couldn’t really tell-- and the crowd roared-- Tooru just  _ lost  _ it-- Morisuke met his eyes, and  _ God _ , there was no way Tetsurou could forget that face. He’d spent the last three days fucking his hand in the shower to thoughts of it, trying to recapture the memory of how Morisuke’s skin felt underneath his fingertips and how his spine arched and how soft his lips were. It must have shown on his face. Morisuke  _ grinned  _ at him, and did a little wave before turning around and resting his chin in the palm of his hand-- elbow on the pole around the green grass-- and focusing on the game. 

Tetsurou couldn’t keep his eyes off him for the rest of the match. It made him want to crawl out of his skin.

 

They all went to the after party, together, at some sort of frat house; Hajime and Tooru, Koutarou and Tetsurou, and Morisuke, too, along with the rest of the team and their joint friend group. It was nice. Tetsurou couldn’t remember the last time he’d been to a party--  _ oh _ ; _ yes, he could. _

The memory seemed to haunt Morisuke, too; he kept sort of  _ glancing  _ at Tetsurou, a not-quite stare. 

“Hey,” Tetsurou said after his second beer. 

“Hi,” Morisuke replied.

They were silent, then. In the distance, there were shouts, and some glass broke. 

“Listen--” sighed Morisuke; admitting defeat, “You got any cigarettes?”

Tetsurou shook his head. 

“Might be some upstairs,” he said slowly. The implications of his suggestion were blatant. He leaned in; close enough to feel Morisuke’s breath fan over his collarbones. 

“Oh,” Morisuke exhaled, “That’s-- a good idea.”

 

“This is a horrible idea,” Morisuke moaned, later; pinned against the wall of some forgotten bedroom. Tetsurou had dropped to his knees, and wrapped his lips around the head of Morisuke’s cock, twisting and moving and pushing him further into his mouth. Morisuke bit his lower lip in an attempt to cover those delicious noises Tetsurou coaxed out of him as he bobbed slowly, tongue sliding along the underside. He opened his eyes, and glanced up at Morisuke;  _ big  _ mistake, he later thought. Morisuke was downright sinfully gorgeous; all blushed and needy and pliant. Tetsurou exhaled a moan and swallowed. Spit dribbled from his chin.

“Oh, fuck,” moaned Morisuke, tangling his fingers into Tetsurou’s hair and pulling;  _ hard _ . Tetsurou swallowed and sucked again, breathing deeply through his nose as his palms steadied Morisuke’s hips. He lowered his mouth down; down until he’d taken everything Morisuke had to give him in between his lips.

“You’re a  _ theology  _ student,” whined Morisuke, “Oh, my  _ God _ ; where did you learn to do that?”

Tetsurou pulled his mouth away with a small  _ pop _ . 

“Boarding school,” he clarified in a broken voice, and then he slid down again; swallowing him whole.

Morisuke threw his head back and covered his mouth to muffle his scream as he came.

 

Tetsurou had to walk home in dirty jeans and dirty underwear. He didn’t sleep well that night, either; tossing and turning, waking every other hour. He kept checking his phone, too; for missed calls or unread messages from Morisuke. Morisuke hadn’t even been online.

“Dick,” Tetsurou mumbled into his pillow, “Stupid, fucking--  _ dickhead _ .”

He turned it off, and passed out once more.

 

He didn’t hear from Morisuke for the next week; then, his phone rang-- once, in lecture-- and it didn’t stop ringing.

Everyone looked up; soon-to-be theologists didn’t tend to have a buzzing social life. Tetsurou was an outsider, in his course. 

“Sorry,” spoke Tetsurou. He turned it on silent mode. It continued to ring, insistently so, though Tetsurou couldn’t seem to mind as he glimpsed at name on the screen;  _ Morisuke _ . Tetsurou felt all the oxygen he’d had in his lungs leave, and he felt a little light-headed. 

“You okay?” his neighbour asked him.

“Yeah,” sighed Tetsurou, “Yeah, I’m okay.”

 

Later, he slung his bag over his shoulder and stood outside in the quiet corridor of the theology faculty and called him back.

Morisuke picked up after three rings.

“Hey,” he’d said. 

The sheer relief Tetsurou felt at the sound of his voice was beyond childish and embarrassing. 

“Hi,” Tetsurou replied, “I-- sorry, I couldn’t answer earlier. I had class.”

“That’s fine,” Morisuke spoke in a hurried tone, “Hey, listen; what’re you doing tonight?”

Tetsurou blinked, once or twice.

“I-- uh-- nothing; not much,” he stammered, “I’m free.”

“Great,” Morisuke replied, “Come over, why don’t you?”

Tetsurou knew what the words implied; he’d thought about them ever since he’d blown Morisuke in a stranger’s house. They meant sex; bodies pressed close together, sliding against one another, and uncontrollable, gasping breaths between them. 

“Sure,” exhaled Tetsurou, “Text me your address, yeah?”

 

That’s when it all started.

“Hey,” Tetsurou said. He dropped his backpack on the linoleum floor of Morisuke’s dorm. It was similar to his, really, except for the posters of foreign films he’d never heard of and records made by unknown artists. It was sort of dusty, too; there was dust on the bookshelves--  _ Advanced Calculus IV _ , Tetsurou read-- and on his desk. 

“Hi,” Morisuke replied. 

They stood there, for a moment, simply staring at each other. The sun began to set outside, and bathed the room in shades of yellow and orange. It reflected in Morisuke’s eyes-- those glossed over pupils-- and contorted on his cheeks, down to his neck and collar, bared just slightly by an overstretched old t-shirt he wore. Tetsurou wanted more; he wanted to see  _ more _ , touch  _ more _ , until--

“Oh, fuck it,” Tetsurou exhaled. His entire body felt hot; it was all too much. He leaped forward, cupped Morisuke’s face, and kissed him, just like that. Morisuke made a small noise at the back of his throat-- perhaps in surprise, or protest; it was hard to tell-- and then fisted his hands in the front of Tetsurou’s t-shirt, pulling him closer. He licked at the inside of his mouth, bit at the corner of it and  _ God, he was hot _ .

“C’mon,” whispered Morisuke, rolling his hips up towards Tetsurou’s, “Are you going to fuck me, or not?”

“Holy shit,” hushed Tetsurou. He was thankful the room was dim; it would be embarrassing for Morisuke to see the dark red flush that covered his cheeks and nose. He was certain Morisuke never blushed. 

Morisuke rolled his hips again, and Tetsurou tightened his hold on Morisuke’s shoulder and waist and  _ everywhere _ ; he couldn’t bring his hands to still. In a flurry, Morisuke slammed his body against the wall, forcing Tetsurou to crowd him. The thud of the contact of Morisuke’s back to the thin wall of the dormitory was painfully loud, and, really, Tetsurou should have been repulsed, but  _ God _ , it was hot; if this was what Morisuke was into, he’d take it in a heartbeat.

Morisuke jumped up and wrapped his legs around Tetsurou’s hips; like he’d done before, after the party, though, this time, Tetsurou was prepared. He’d caught him, easily, and pressed him further against the wall; closer to his body, too. Their groins aligned. It felt like fire; red hot and real.

Morisuke panted into the space between Tetsurou’s lips and yanked him closer, rolling his hips  _ just  _ right. Tetsurou had to duck his head to gather his composure; it was almost  _ too much _ . It was a lot, but, then again, it seemed like Morisuke was just  _ a lot  _ of a person. 

“Oh, fuck,” groaned Tetsurou, breathing hot and heavy into the soft expanse of skin on Morisuke’s shoulder; where the collar of his t-shirt was stretched, “Fuck--  _ fuck _ \--”

He slammed a palm into the wall beside Morisuke’s head as Morisuke arched his back and moaned as though he were a porn star. They were rutting against each other-- that was all they were doing, really-- but it felt so  _ good  _ Tetsurou couldn’t bring himself to stop, and when Morisuke reached between them, spat in his hand and wrapped his fingers around both their cocks, Tetsurou swore he transcended reality. 

It was rough-- spit was a terrible substitute for lube-- and a little painful, but it was probably the single best handjob Tetsurou had ever been privileged to receive. 

Morisuke was this feral animal; he was an untamed, ferocious cat-- all claws and teeth, spitting and hissing-- and entirely primal. At one point, he bit deep into Tetsurou’s neck, and  _ God _ , he hadn’t known he’d been into that until then; it hurt, but it’d felt real, like some sort of semi-permanent proof that this had happened. 

“Oh,  _ shit _ ,” breathed Tetsurou, “God,  _ fuck--  _ yeah, baby; just like that--”

Morisuke groaned. His nails nipped red grooves into the skin of Tetsurou’s shoulders-- through his t-shirt-- as they thrust towards each other, breaths coming faster and hotter than before. 

With a broken, choked moan, Tetsurou shoved against him-- as hard as he could-- and then he trembled all over. Hot, dizzying rush fell over him, and when he could see past the fuzzy stars floating in his vision, Morisuke leaned back against the wall, chest heaving and eyes focused on at Tetsurou. He was a little red in the face, and a mixture sweat and spit slicked over his cheeks and neck. Tetsurou could see the marks he’d left there begin to bloom. 

“You dropped me,” Morisuke told him. His voice was rough. 

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

Tetsurou couldn’t breathe; it was suffocating. Morisuke swallowed thickly, and ran a hand through his hair before grabbing some tissues and cleaning himself up. He handed Tetsurou some, too, and he mirrored his actions.

“I guess I’ll…,” Tetsurou said, reaching for his backpack, “I’ll see you around?”

Morisuke toyed with the hem of his t-shirt. His teeth dug into his lower lip.

“Yeah,” he exhaled, “See you around.”

 

He didn’t see him around. Their dorms weren’t close, and they weren’t in the same faculty, but they  _ did  _ meet again, after that; again, and again, and  _ again _ \--

It’d been three weeks; maybe more, it was difficult to tell. Time was blurred when Tetsurou was with him, since Morisuke had wanted to fuck hard; lights-off, beneath the covers, with bruises littered all over his body, sometimes one round, sometimes two or three or-- 

And Tetsurou? Tetsurou complied; chewed from the inside out by some strange insistent ache that disappeared after Morisuke whispered some nonsense words--  _ God, you fuck me so well; you fill me so perfect, oh God--  _ into his ear. Tetsurou would groan into Morisuke’s mouth and pull at his arms and hips and waist. Later, when Morisuke was long submerged into unadulterated lust-- he’d slide his palms down Morisuke’s forearms and curl his fingers around his wrists and lace their fingers together. 

“C’mon,” Morisuke’d pant over the hot shell of Tetsurou’s ear; fingernails scratching up and down Tetsurou’s back, “Faster; harder.”

“Jesus,” Tetsurou would moan, “Oh, Jesus stand by me--”

And he’d comply; he’d set himself on fire just to keep Morisuke warm. 

There was always something else there, when they met. Something he couldn’t quite figure out, because when they were done, Tetsurou wanted to turn to Morisuke and just  _ watch  _ him. If that was creepy, he didn’t care. He simply wanted to watch him sink into the mattress and pillows and feel his breath even out; slowly, and then all at once.  

 

“That’s kind of creepy,” Tooru told him when Tetsurou confessed this to him. 

They were studying, together; Tooru was a Middle Eastern Studies major, and hadtaken a class on the influence of Islam on the current legal system of some-sort of country ending in  _ -stan _ that Tetsurou could not be less interested in. He’d roped Tetsurou into helping him. Hajime was there, too,  _ of course he was _ ; even though Hajime wasn’t even a humanities student.  

“Shut up,” Hajime protested, “It’s not creepy; it’s sweet.”

Tooru scoffed. The librarian shushed him.

“What do  _ you  _ know about these sorts of things, Haj’?” Tooru hushed, leering forward, “ _ I’m  _ the expert here, and  _ I  _ think it’s weird.”

“You’re not an expert,” Hajime said, “You slept with one guy; that doesn’t make you an expert! You don’t even have a boyfriend!”

“Neither do you!” Tooru challenged. They were millimetres apart. Hajime breathed harshly out of his nose, and then his jaw moved like he wanted to say something, though the librarian shushed them once more. They flung apart, and were silent. Tetsurou turned his attention back to books in front of him. 

The thought did not leave his mind; he wanted to know more about Morisuke. He wanted to know what he studied, and where he was from, and he wanted to--  _ shit _ .

“Just ask him for coffee, or something,” whispered Hajime, “I really don’t see the problem. Befriend him; the guy’s a loner. It can’t be that difficult.”

 

“You want to get  _ what _ ?”

Tetsurou scratched the back of his neck. 

“Coffee,” he repeated, “I want to get coffee; with you-- together.”

Morisuke sunk his teeth into his lower lip. He had dark rings underneath his eyes. He looked tired; the sight made Tetsurou’s chest hurt. 

“Why?” he asked.

Tetsurou shrugged.

“Do you have something better to do?” 

Morisuke tapped his pencil against the notes before him.

“Fine,” he forced, stuffing his papers and pens into his back, and slinging his backpack over his shoulder. He stuck his hands into his pockets. He looked sort of offended. Tetsurou felt so elated he was damn near bawling; he could have run a marathon. 

He led them to the only coffee place on campus; in the politics faculty, nonetheless. Tetsurou only bought a quadruple espresso-- that’s two double espressos poured into one cup-- there during finals week last semester. He’d suspected Morisuke was the same; he raised an eyebrow, and Tetsurou averted his gaze and bit at the inside of his mouth. 

“What can I get for you?” the girl behind the bar asked. 

Morisuke ordered a cappuccino. Tetsurou order a latte. It seemed fool-proof; it was similar to Morisuke’s own, but different, too; not  _ too  _ similar. He had the strangest wish to impress Morisuke; to make him believe he was as cool as he was. 

“C’mon, let’s sit,” Tetsurou said after they’d paid. His fingers trembled a little, and his stomach clenched nervously; it was embarrassing. 

“Sure,” Morisuke replied. 

They sat on one of those tiny sofas; the kind definitely not made for two grown men, but Morisuke was sort of small, and Tetsurou was lanky. It worked. It gave Tetsurou the perfect excuse to press himself against Morisuke as Morisuke lifted his knees and rested them against Tetsurou’s thigh and chest. 

Tetsurou hadn’t touched his drink; it was a little too hot, and so, he simply watched Morisuke sip his own and lower his head, raise his eyebrows, and watch the crowd through his fringe. It was entirely endearing.

“Why’d you want to see me?” Morisuke asked in a low voice. Tetsurou was a little taken aback by it; the sheer proximity of Morisuke was almost overwhelming as he turned his head and looked at Tetsurou.

“What-- what d’you mean?” Tetsurou asked. 

“I…,” Morisuke said quietly, “I didn’t think… I didn’t think I’d see you until I-- uh-- called you, or… whatever.”

“Oh,” Tetsurou stated, “Do you… do you not  _ want  _ to see me?”

Morisuke bit his lower lip again; a nervous habit.

“I do.”

Tetsurou licked his lips, and swallowed thickly.

“Good,” he said, “‘Cause… ‘cause I do, too.”

Morisuke didn’t turn away.

“I want to kiss you,” he hushed, “I really,  _ really  _ want to kiss you; like, right now. Is that--”

Tetsurou felt all the air leave his lungs, and then, he leaned forward and pressed his mouth against Morisuke’s. Morisuke’s lips were dry and a little chapped, but just as soft and full as Tetsurou remembered. Morisuke made a tiny noise at the back of his throat, and his fingers twitched against Tetsurou’s jaw as Tetsurou pulled him closer, grabbing his thighs and placing them on either side of his own. 

“It’s not weird,” he finished for Morisuke, “It’s not weird.”

And Morisuke smiled. He  _ smiled  _ at him; slowly, and then all at once. 

 

Tetsurou felt himself falling after that; fast and far too deep, for regardless of whether he knew what Morisuke studied-- computer science, out of all the things in the world-- and what his favourite colour was-- dark red-- he didn’t like Tetsurou enough to stay the night.

He’d text Tetsurou-- or Tetsurou would contact him-- and they’d meet, and they’d end up together, in somebody’s bed or pushed against a wall or table, and breath the same oxygen, thrust up towards each other, and simply  _ fuck _ as hard and fast as Morisuke wanted. 

Things were different only once. 

“I failed,” Morisuke’d spat, standing in Tetsurou’s door, “The exam. I failed it.”

“Oh,” Tetsurou said. There was little else he could have said. Outside, it started to rain; the pitter-patter of the drops against Tetsurou’s windowsill echoed in his dorm.

“I can’t-- I don’t--” 

Tetsurou stared at him. His jaw was clenched, and he looked like he was struggling to find the right words. 

“Morisuke,” Tetsurou said, “Hey, Morisuke; are you… are you okay? We don’t have to--”

“I’m fine!” Morisuke replied quickly, “I’m fine!” His voice was shrill. 

He  _ wasn’t  _ fine, Tetsurou thought; not in the slightest. He didn’t seem like the Morisuke Tetsurou had talked to at that party on the porch; that cool, unadulterated youth, that hybrid who smoked and smirked and known all sorts of fun tricks, that mix of a man who couldn’t contain himself, with a smile that promised all sorts of wet dreams to come true. In that moment, he simply seemed young, and anxious, and somewhat unstable and infinitely  _ human _ . 

All Tetsurou wanted to do was to reach out and hold him, to keep him close and never leave him; he didn’t want to let Morisuke leave, either. 

“Morisuke,” Tetsurou repeated. Morisuke bit his lower lip so hard it bled a little. Tetsurou stepped closer to him, and reached out. He took his hand. 

Morisuke looked up at him, and then, they  _ really  _ looked at each other; with parted mouths and glossed over eyes, like this was the first time they’d seen each other. Morisuke made a small, choked noise, and then he grabbed Tetsurou by the shoulders and pressed his body against his. Tetsurou held onto him tightly as Morisuke trembled. 

“It’s okay,” promised Tetsurou, even though it  _ wasn’t _ . It hurt to see Morisuke like this. Morisuke was  _ everything _ ; too much all over, too young and laced with a facade of false maturity, and  _ God,  _ he was just entirely impossible. Tetsurou did not doubt that Morisuke could work magic by snapping his skinny, pale fingers.

Tetsurou felt like he was drowning, and Morisuke? Morisuke was the ocean.

 

He ended up taking Morisuke to bed, and when he woke up, he was still there; the sun was shining, and Morisuke was lying  _ here  _ right next to him. It felt as though Tetsurou were looking at Morisuke for the first time, properly, and maybe he was. Morisuke lay tense beside him. His nails were bitten. There was a tiny scar on his forehead. He had freckles on his cheeks. 

There was simply so much Tetsurou had yet to discover about him, for Morisuke was a mystery; clouded in the fog of the night. All Tetsurou wanted to do was pin Morisuke down; he wanted to examine him through a magnifying glass-- as though he were a dangerous animal; a scorpion in a petri-dish, a shark in a tank-- and to trace his shape and smell his neck and taste his lips. It was infatuation; it always had been, since the very beginning, and it was enough. Infatuation would have to be enough. 

Then, Morisuke opened his eyes. They moved quickly over Tetsurou’s face; calculating and careful. Tetsurou gave him a lopsided smile. Morisuke seemed to calm down, after that; his shoulders slacked, and he exhaled slowly. 

“Sorry,” Morisuke said quietly, “About last night, I mean.”

“It’s fine.”

He’d meant it. 

Morisuke traced the pattern of Tetsurou’s bedsheets, and as he watched Morisuke, he thought about all the different ways he couldn’t define Morisuke; he was a contradiction, and Tetsurou liked that. He liked Morisuke. He liked his smile-- all knowing and entirely wholesome-- and his laugh, and how intelligent his eyes were, and how he could be difficult and sort of a bitch, sometimes. If that made Tetsurou a masochist, so be it. He’d accepted his fate the moment he got out of bed hungover in the morning to get Morisuke a cigarette. 

“Don’t go,” voiced Tetsurou, suddenly.

Morisuke froze. He looked uncomfortable; trapped and scared.

“What?”

“Don’t go,” repeated Tetsurou. 

“I--” Morisuke stammered, “Okay,” he said quietly, and then-- like he couldn’t think of anything else in the world to do or say; like nothing was easier-- he pulled Tetsurou down and kissed him, slowly and carefully, as though he were trying to memorise every crevice of him. 

Later, they’d fuck-- no,  _ sleep together _ \-- in the morning sun. Morisuke pulled Tetsurou down close to him, and pressed their foreheads together. 

“Oh, shit,” Tetsurou panted, “Don’t go; please, don’t go--”

“Yes, yes,” exhaled Morisuke. 

Tetsurou came then and there; his thrusts messy and unskilled, and kissed Morisuke messily. Morisuke trembled underneath him, and Tetsurou held him and dug his fingers into his scalp and hip as he released and clenched around him. 

“Please, don’t go,” repeated Tetsurou, later; they were lying on their sides, watching each other. Morisuke traced invisible patterns on Tetsurou’s chest; connected moles and freckles and stars as though they were constellations. 

“Why?” asked Morisuke. 

Tetsurou liked his lower lip.

“I don’t know,” he replied, “Do you… do you not like me?”

“I do.”

Tetsurou exhaled a shaking breath. 

“It’s not healthy to rely on others,” Morisuke stated. He pulled the covers away and stood, pulling on his t-shirt and boxers and jeans. 

“What?” Tetsurou sat up. 

“It’s not healthy,” repeated Morisuke, as though he were a child, “To rely on others.”

Morisuke put on his socks, and then his shoes. He tied them aggressively. 

Tetsurou balled his fists, inhaled a deep breath, and then--

“I don’t  _ rely  _ on you. I don’t need you to function, you piece of shit. I just… I want you to stay because… because I like you. I like that you bother to hang out with me, and I like kissing you and… touching you and I just… I like you; probably love you, too.”

Morisuke dug his teeth into his lower lip. The words had simply flowed out of Tetsurou’s mouth, and now that they were out in the open, there was little he could do.

“Sorry,” Morisuke spat turning on his heels, “I’m fucking sorry; you don’t-- you deserve--  _ shit _ .”

He slammed the door on his way out. His words didn’t make sense to Tetsurou; how Morisuke could go from zero to a hundred miles an hour was a mystery to him. 

Tetsurou half heartedly expected Morisuke to turn around and come back and apologise and  _ oh, don’t you remember what we had before; what we had last night? _ or to say something,  _ anything _ , but he didn’t. Morisuke wasn’t the type of person to run to Tetsurou at the airport, to push past security or anything like that. He simply wasn’t  _ like that _ . 

Tetsurou had to get used to it, he supposed, lying on his back. It was cold. Sweat dried on his stomach and chest and spine. 

They wouldn’t be able to hold hands, and go on dates; they’d never get groceries together, or study together. There would be no comfortable silence between them. 

Tetsurou rolled his side and pressed his thumb inside his fist. He exhaled a shuddering sob; it was over, he was alone and it was quiet. 

 

Tetsurou didn’t leave his dorm for the rest of the day, aside from dragging himself to the kitchen to eat something,  _ anything _ .

“Where’s your boyfriend?” Hajime asked him around a mouthful of ramen. 

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Friend, then.”

Tetsurou slammed the refrigerator shut.

“He’s not my friend, either.”

And that was that. 

Tetsurou simply watched some mindless t.v. show--  _ alone _ \-- and moped with an indescribable stab-like pain in his chest. Eventually, he’d fallen asleep; though not before checking his phone.

_ No new messages. _

Tetsurou flung the device to the other side of the room. 

 

Early-- or late, really-- in the morning, there was a knocking on his door; it would have woken Tetsurou up if he hadn’t been wide awake, anyway. Sleeping was difficult, with those thoughts in his head. Stumbling out of his bed, he ran a hand through his hair and opened it, ready to sigh exasperatedly at whomever it was; probably Koutarou with some sort of crisis about Keiji and him, or Hajime needing advice on what sort of flowers Tooru liked, or maybe Hajime had told Tooru about how much like  _ absolute shit  _ he looked and Tooru grew worried, since he was like that, or--

“Oh,” Tetsurou said. He stood, motionless; fingers stuck on his door. 

It wasn’t Koutarou, or Hajime, or anyone like that; it was Morisuke. 

The realisation of this made Tetsurou’s heart stop; he wasn’t sad, or angry-- like he should have been-- but he was so damn  _ happy _ .

Morisuke inhaled a shaking breath; he looked exhausted, and was panting as though he’d run here, Tetsurou thought. In the dim, artificial light of the corridor, he was beautiful. He looked at Tetsurou as though he were about to implode or bolt or  _ both _ , but he was still beautiful. He could never be anything but.

“Hi,” he exhaled, “Listen, I-- I thought about… what you’d said and I… I think I’ve accidentally fallen in love with you; which is why I ran away. I mean, I… I-- I don’t want to do impossible, crazy shit but I-- with you-- I think I  _ would _ . I don’t care about finishing each other’s sentences or you laying down your life for me I just-- I want you to be here; with me, and I want you-- I want to make you happy, because I like your dumb laugh and your stupid smile and you’re--”

Slowly, and then all at once, Tetsurou smiled.

“You’re the biggest piece of shit I’ve ever met,” he said, and then, he reached out, cupped Morisuke’s face, and kissed him; so hard Morisuke bent backwards. Morisuke tasted of cigarette smoke and alcohol-- just like the first time they’d kissed-- but this time, Tetsurou understood the underlying current of sweetness; vanilla. 

“Sorry,” Morisuke breathed into the gap between Tetsurou’s lips, “I’m-- it’s five in the morning, but I couldn’t sleep ‘cause of you, so you aren’t getting any sleep ‘cause of me.”

“It’s fine,” Tetsurou replied and  _ God _ ; he could not stop  _ smiling _ , “I told you; I want to see you, even at five in the morning.”

“It’s early.”

“Yeah; or late, really.”

“We should…,” Morisuke hushed, running a hand through Tetsurou’s hair and letting his fingers get caught in the tangles, “I want to sleep next to you.”

Tetsurou stroked his thumb along Morisuke’s cheek.

“Sounds good to me,” he whispered. 

**Author's Note:**

> lmao for a brief period of my life i wanted to study theology but then i was like 'who tf studies theology' and then i was like 'kuroo. kuroo tetsurou would study theology' so ta-dah!!


End file.
